being yourself. My mother is my hero. I was about ten years old when I first realized how much of a hero my mother was. I began to understand that the consequences and discipline inflicted on me was not in hatred‚ but to teach me a simple lesson about life skills. I recall a time back when I was around five or six where I threw an enormous tantrum about eating my vegetables. Being the hero that my mother is‚ she made me eat every last carrot‚ pea‚ and broccoli there was on my plate. At the time
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My room is my one and only domain where I carry out various leisure activities such as studying‚ watching films and television‚ listen to music‚ talk on the phone‚ surf the internet‚ etc. My room is painted all pink; also‚ most of the things in my room are all pink. As someone enters my room‚ the first thing that he or she will see is a cream dresser with a stylish design coated on it. In it‚ lie all my clothes and personal belongings. Then on the other side of my room‚ a black plasma television
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used to dread Sunday mornings. It was the day that my father would call my grandparents long distance to Korea. My father had a rule that my brother‚ sister‚ and I each had to talk to our grandfather and practice speaking Korean. I remember turning over in my bed to face the wall so that my father couldn’t see that I was awake. Even though I tried my best to feign a deep slumber‚ his stern voice commanded me to wake up and set a good example for my younger siblings. Groaning‚ I would stumble over to
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Miller 08/10/13 “My best” It was the 25th of October at 7:00 pm. I was standing on the football field on my senior night my last ever home football game. 6 weeks earlier in a game vs. Stagg high school while I was playing defense I turned the wrong way and dislocated my left knee cap. My knee cap was actually on the side of my knee. I was immediately rushed to the hospital via ambulance‚ because they did not know how severe my injury was. While I was in the hospital room they put my knee cap back
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inspired every time there is an opportunity for me to create an artwork. My mother said I got this art skill from my father side. I remember I could plunge into drawing or coloring for hours till morning‚ my mother was so concerned that I was not sleeping until I finished my art piece. I have grown up‚ priorities have changed since that time but my patience on doing details over my drawing or painting is still the same. Art is my passion‚ it helps me express myself and feel great in every art work I
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My world. My world is a series of strung memories‚ slow songs‚ copper streetlights dancing over my skin during long car rides‚ first kisses yet to be shared‚ poems yet to be read‚ apologies I was too afraid to make‚ mistakes I don’t know how to undo‚ pulse punching through me every moment I write‚ and the laughs that I have yet to enjoy. My world is not only my world; it is your world‚ her world‚ his world‚ our world. The lines of my world are not defined. I have not found my world‚ but am creating
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in the means of varying my idiolect is social networking. Abbreviations like “LOL” and “ROFL” appear to be making their way into everyday teenager dialects around the world including mine. I have noticed that I currently use “LOL” often to let others recognise when I find something humorous. What I perceive from this is that I only use this abbreviation around my friends primarily because of the formal and informal parting of my idiolect between my friends and people like my teachers and parents. I
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My three going on four years at Hillside High has easily been the best years of my life. I have made lifelong friends and relationships I will never forget. The relationships I have made with my teachers‚ classmates‚ teammates‚ administrators‚ and coaches are ones will stay connected to well beyond high school and my collegiate years. The legacy I am leaving behind at my high school is one filled with perseverance‚ integrity‚ and triumph. My academic accomplishments over my high school career have
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learned to hope and dream about what the future holds for us. I know I have‚ and all these past years all I’ve done is think about what I want to be when i grow up‚ who my family is and where I will live. I’ve been filling my head with a fantasy of being a rich girl living in New York. So‚ I subconsciously created a blueprint in my mind of my future‚ and it gives me an immense pleasure to share it with all of you. So here it goes. Ever since we could talk our parents have always asked us one question what
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Well‚ this story is a long one‚ as are most of my stories‚ but here it goes… My vocation story is simple; it began with a thought from God that my life was meant for something more. This thought resounded “priesthood” not only in my head‚ but also in my day-to-day life. Very carefully‚ through the influence of my parents‚ through the desire to attend Holy Mass more regularly throughout the week‚ and through my experiences with the other member of our church especially choir‚ God Holy Spirit (Mahal
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